21. Lance #3
“Why am I dragged out here?” my father says when he approaches. He looks over. “Parker? Is that really you? What a pleasant surprise!” He sits next to my mother. “Did you order the All-Star Breakfast?”
Bree leans forward. “Were they trying to kill you and got it wrong? Is this the Curse of Denning Court?”
“No!” I say. “Nobody was trying to kill anyone. It’s an ongoing investigation and we can’t talk about it. We’re not suspects, but we had to get fingerprinted for elimination. That’s all.”
Jonny puts his hand on my thigh under the table.
“Jonny’s been living in India for the past ten years,” I say, to change the subject.
“Who’s Jonny?” Dad asks.
“He is,” Mom and Bree say, pointing.
“I thought you disappeared without a trace,” Bree says.
“No, I just moved to India. Would you like to hear about the wild tiger sanctuaries?” he asks, glancing anxiously at my family, arrayed in the opposite booth.
“Absolutely,” Mom says.
“Are you two back together?” Bree asks.
“Breanna!” Dad says.
“Well, we’re all sitting here thinking it.”
I hope so. “We’re just old friends who ran into each other and decided to catch up on old times. That’s it.”
“Of course!” Dad says.
“There’s nothing weird about that,” I insist. “Until you people came storming in and made it weird.”
“Mmhmm,” Bree says. Their food arrives. There is a beat of silence.
My mother smiles at the waitress, picks up her fork, and then peers closely at Jonny. She frowns. “Is that my son’s sweatshirt?”
I drop my fork. Jonny looks down slowly at the sweatshirt I gave him this morning, taking in the globe, eagle, and anchor on the sleeve. He slowly pivots to look at me.
“Well, the police took his clothes for evidence and—”
“This morning.” Bree stares at me. “That was twelve hours ago, Lance.”
“And we’re back together!” Jonny says.
“Oh, thank God,” Bree says. I fist-bump her.
“For heaven’s sakes,” Mom says. “You could have just told us that.”
“Welcome back to the family,” Dad says. “I’m not happy with the way they did the bacon. Jackie, next time, specify burnt bacon or they never get it crispy enough.”
“We didn’t like the ex at all,” Bree says. “Even Mom hated him. Are those tattoos?” She pushes up his right sleeve, where ink is visible past the cuff. Jonny pulls his arm back.
“Wait, you hated Nash?” I ask Mom.
“I just didn’t have a good feeling about him, honey,” Mom says evasively.
Under the table, Jonny’s hand finds mine and holds on.
“Hi everyone!” Miss Shelley says, hovering over our table.
She puts an enormous book on the table. “Thanks so much for calling me, Jackie. Glenda thinks this book is the greatest thing since the second coming. I couldn’t get past the second chapter.
Jonny, sweetheart, when I said that thing about bail money I was joking. ”
“We didn’t get arrested!” Jonny says.
“Oh. I was going to say that I had bail money now. Hi Lance. You haven’t changed a bit. And for God’s sakes, it’s Shelley now. You’re an adult. Are these two back together?”
“Yes,” the Broussard side of the table says in unison.
“Oh good. The other option was that he would have sold himself to Lance to get out of the clink. Which would have been a damned better story than this piece of shit,” she says, picking up the book with disdain.
“Scootch,” she orders me and sits next to me.
“Can I have eggs and raisin toast?” she asks the waitress. “And coffee.”
“I love your aunt Shelley,” Bree says. “You two should get married so she can be my aunt Shelley.”
“Yes, that is exactly why we should get married,” Jonny deadpans.
“I kinda thought you’d have a better proposal than that, but that’s a hard yes,” I answer.
“Well, you’re not seventeen anymore. You’re old enough to know your own hearts,” Mom says. She leans over the table. “Why is it every time Glenda picks a book it’s so terrible? And why does her cheese dip taste rancid? How do you ruin store-bought cheese dip?”
“Tell us about India, son,” Dad says. “Tell us everything.”
I put my hand on the small of his back. Sure, I want him all to myself, but now my dad is calling him son. He’s one of us again.
No, not again—he has always been one of us. My dad just called him son. Nobody at this table has forgotten him for one single day.
Jonny knits his brow. He glances down at where my hand is, and then up at me in surprise.
I cock my head. Do you want me to take it away?
He shakes his head, very slightly. “No,” he says, under the noise of the table.
“I like it.” Then he turns back to the family.
“So, let me tell me about the time I wound up stranded in a tiger sanctuary with a very talkative prostitute name Laxmi.”
“I love the Laxmi stories!” Shelley says.
My sister’s jaw drops. “You’re friends with a prostitute. I have so many questions, and mostly, how did you get so much cooler than my brother?”
“Hey!” I say.
“Practice,” Jonny says. “I knew that if I ran into him, I would want to impress the pants off of him.”
“Well, mission accomplished,” Mom mutters, spearing her hash browns. And then, to my complete and total mortification, my father gives her an old-people’s high-five.